Once comfortable on stage in front of thousands, Joely Crockett is now mortified at the thought of walking—or rolling—down the aisle at her sisters’ wedding. Scarred and wheelchair-bound, the former beauty queen has lost more than the ability to walk—she’s lost her fire. But when one handsome, arrogant guest accuses her of milking her injuries and ignites her ire, Joely finally starts to feel truly alive again, and soon it’s impossible for her to resist her heart’s desire.
Alec Morrissey knows a little something about loss. A famous rodeo cowboy before he was injured in Iraq, he’s managed to create something of a normal life, even if it’s not the one he always imagined. Encountering stunning but damaged Joely, he sees a kindred spirit who can learn from his mistakes.
As these two healing souls begin to fall in love under the Wyoming stars, they must discover if they are willing to give in to the tragedies of life or fight for a future together.
Avon Impulse; February 9; $2.99; ISBN: 9780062413963
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Lizbeth Selvig lives in Minnesota with her best friend (aka her husband), and a gray Arabian gelding. After working as a newspaper journalist and magazine editor, and raising an equine veterinarian daughter and a talented musician son, she won RWA’s prestigious Golden Heart® Contest in 2010 with her contemporary romance The Rancher and the Rock Star. In her spare time, she loves to hike, quilt, read, horseback ride, and spend time with her new granddaughter. She also has four-legged grandchildren—more than twenty—including a wallaby, two alpacas, a donkey, a pig, a sugar glider, and many dogs, cats, and horses (pics of all appear on her website www.lizbethselvig.com). She loves connecting with readers—contact her any time!
“Warm enough?” he asked. “Your back’s okay?”
“I’m plenty warm. And my back aches. It’ll be fine in the morning.”
“What would make it fine now?”
“Sven the masseur?”
He chuckled. “Your version of the cabana boy fantasy, huh? Fine, I can do Sven.” She’d been joking; he was not. “Come on. Stretch out on your stomach.”
She started to turn and changed her mind. “What about you?”
“I’m fantastic. I have a beautiful woman about to let me touch her wherever I want to.”
“Wait, I never said that.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, long and deep, taking the lead, pushing him onto his back instead of following his directive. When he groaned and pulled her to lie on top of him, she broke the kiss. She’d done it now, and her nerves almost got the better of her. Instead she closed her eyes and took a brave breath.
“Your leg has to be killing you,” she said. “I’m worried about it. I have no idea how to ask you about it because you never say anything, so I’m just blurting it out.”
“My leg is okay,” he said.
“You haven’t taken off the prosthetic in two days.”
“I have. Didn’t you wonder what the heck took a guy so long in the woods at night?” He took his turn kissing her, and she reveled, not just in his kiss but in the breadth of him beneath her. And in the swift, undeniable swell that proved what power her mouth had over him. Thrills pooled low in her pelvis.
The next words hung in her throat for a long time. If she said them, she’d have to be willing to offer the same in return. Her greatest fear rose in front of her.
“I want to know all of you. I want you to . . . trust me.”
“I haven’t wanted to weird you out.”
The words were light, slightly jokey, and still she clearly heard the underlying tension.
“That’s just dumb, Alec. Weird? It’s not weird. It’s you.”
Did she mean it? Of course she did. Then how could she do anything but open herself up in return? No matter how much it scared her.
“You’ve never made love to a one-legged guy.”
Fear flared hot just before her grin broke loose. “Am I about to?”
He pulled her back down against him and ran his hands over her seat, pulling her tight and rolling his hips. “It might be too soon.”
She rested one elbow beside his ear, brushing his hair back with the other hand, drinking in the texture with her fingertips. “I’m afraid to let you see, too.”
“See what?” A light, perhaps one of hopefulness, brightened his eyes.
“I have more scars than the one you’ve seen on my face.” She stopped combing through his hair. The breath she took this time was shakier than any so far. “I’d show you mine if you show me yours. Let’s be weirded out together.” The words were silly, and her heart skittered around her ribcage—a scared bird that had trapped itself.
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